


You Cause As Much Sorrow

by EyeofMazikeen



Series: Songs in The Key of MorMor [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Reichenbach Feels, Suicidal Thoughts, mormor, song ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeofMazikeen/pseuds/EyeofMazikeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You Cause as Much Sorrow' by Sinead O'Connor</p><p>Third in the series of a MorMor themed songficlets that were originally posted on Tumblr. Prompt included the song and a request for 'angst and reichenfeels'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Cause As Much Sorrow

**Why must you always be around?**

**Why can’t you just leave it be?**

**It’s done nothing so far but destroy my life**

**You cause as much sorrow dead**

**As you did when you were alive**

It had been three weeks since Sebastian Moran had left his formerly-shared flat; time entirely spent living with the ghost of Jim Moriarty.  Not literally; James hadn’t come back to rattle chains and give cryptic warnings about the future.  But despite his absence, the man was everywhere.  His favorite brand of tea filled the cupboards, their shower smelled of his expensive body wash, and his pressed suits hung lifeless in their closet.  Their emptiness mocked the sniper every time he went to dress.

He couldn’t watch telly; the Reichenbach incident was everywhere.  Actor Richard Brook slain by fake genius Sherlock Holmes, who then killed himself after being disgraced.  It made Sebastian’s stomach crawl, seeing images of Jim’s face plastered across the news, surrounded by those ridiculous puppets.  He had even stolen one from the set for Sebastian, a white tiger which resided on their shared bed until the day of the Fall.  Like the rest of the presents Jim had given him, it ended up in a box in the closet before sunset on the first day.

It’s not that living with his mastermind was a picnic.  At his very best, the man was contentious, hyperactive, unpredictable, violent, or some combination thereof.  But he was also brilliant, passionate, challenging, and above all interesting.  The highs were always worth putting up with the lows.  Except there were no highs anymore.  There was simply a raw, sucking pit in the center of Sebastian’s stomach that no amount of booze or cheap fucks could fix.

After the first week he had largely stopped drinking, mostly because he had run the flat dry and the escorts he sent out for didn’t seem inclined to bring him enough to last between visits.  He stopped sending for them after the middle of the second week when he realized that no matter how many people he fucked on their bed, Jim wasn’t going to burst through the doors and stop him.

Fucking James Moriarty.  Only that goddamn cunt could be more hurtful as corpse than as a living man.

**I never said I was tough**

**That was everyone else**

**So you’re a fool to attack me**

**For the image that you built yourself**

If only the people he tortured could see him now.  Sebastian didn’t at all resemble a man who could remove all of someone’s fingernails with pliers in under three minutes flat anymore.  He must have lost at least a stone since Jim left him.  The sniper always took care of Jim, making sure the man ate and slept. In retrospect, making his mastermind do those things made sure that he did them as well.  Now it just seemed dull.  

The hardened edge was gone from his eyes, replaced by lines of deep sorrow.  Broad shoulders slumped inward, bowing under the weight of his loss.  The persona that he had built around Jim to better suit Moriarty’s needs was growing dimmer without the criminal there help him keep his edge. It was getting easier and easier to fall back into old habits, old vices, old patterns of stagnation.

It should have made him feel weak, but Sebastian wasn’t feeling much at all. It’s not that he wasn’t tough in his own way. But Jim took every one of his qualities and somehow improved them. Before he met the consulting criminal his endurance was pretty good, but Moriarty made it better.  Killing a man had come easily to him, but Jim made it downright enjoyable.  He had always been naturally intimidating, but his mastermind made him terrifying.  And emotionally?  Ha.  There was a difference between numb and tough. He had found that he couldn’t be the latter, so he settled for the former. For Jim, he allowed himself to feel again.  Huge mistake.

Fuck it.  Sebastian had given Jim three miserable weeks to pull off some miracle and get his scrawny ass back to the land of the living.  If Jim wasn’t coming home, then Seb would simply go to him.

Rummaging through his old army gear, he pulled out the box holding his old P226 SIG and carried it over to the bed.  He had no grandiose gestures to give, or romantic notions about how things would end.  All Sebastian had left to leave in this world was a red smear on stupidly expensive, 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.  Jim had taken everything else of value with him.

Rough hands opened the box, and his heart clenched in his chest at what he found.  Instead of his pistol there was a note from Jim, who had obviously expected this.

“ **Sebastian, don’t be such a fucking PUSSY.  That’s an order.  Love, JM.** ”

Broad fingers crumpled the expensive stationary into a little ball and let it drop back into the empty box, and for the first time in weeks, Sebastian Moran smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like MorMor ficlet of your own, please feel free to drop me a line! I'm currently taking requests, so send me your song, the verses (if you want to pick them yourself), and a prompt (if you have one) and I'll post you some MorMor in return!


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